


Meat For The Beast

by MurderDaddies (lovebxllets)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Don't Like Don't Read, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hannigram - Freeform, Horror, Inhuman Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Murder, Paranormal, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Spit As Lube, Underage Will Graham, Vore, all i want is hannigram smut ending in blood and death, im in a mood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebxllets/pseuds/MurderDaddies
Summary: Will had always been an ineffably frail child, so small and thin for a fifteen-year-old, and from the moment the boy stumbled through his doorway, Hannibal knew that he was a tender slice of veal for his beast to devour.My first fill for Hannibal Bingo! Prompt; Veal
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27
Collections: Hannibal Bingo





	Meat For The Beast

**Author's Note:**

> I've read through this a few times and did some editing, however it was not extensive and you may find some mistakes.

Rosewood Manor is known for being haunted. There’s a legend around town that those who go in never come out -at least, not alive, and many a time, this has been the case. But it is not a ghost committing these grisly acts within the mansion's walls, rather an inhuman named Hannibal Lecter that steals the life from those who enter so that he doesn’t die. But killing to survive is not the most terrible thing about him.

##### ~~~⊰♥⊱~~~

For nearly a year, Will Graham has made the two-mile trek from his home to the manor twice a week. A rail-thin fifteen-year-old that was as short, insecure, and sensitive as he was was an easy mark for bullies. He was introverted and unable to connect with those around him. His dad despised him for being “the cause” of his mother’s death. Hannibal Lecter, the terror of Rosewood, was his only friend and the only person he trusted.

Through their year of friendship, he’d fallen in love with him, which was something that made him both deeply ashamed and extremely terrified. He feared he might lose the person he loved most if he found out, or worse, having him hate or resent him for it.

It was just after nightfall, the end of autumn, and Will didn't have a flashlight -he had broken his weeks earlier- but he knew every step of the way by heart so it didn't matter.

The heavy storm clouds that filled the sky in the early afternoon were gone and bright stars gleamed against their dark blue background. The woods were shadowy, the trees stood like tall still guardians over him. The darkness didn't frighten him in the slightest, he found a certain comfort in it. He thought the landscape was that much more beautiful when blanketed with soft shadows, when everything became more silhouettes and murky outlines than clear shapes, it always seemed harsher in the daylight somehow. Puddles had formed at the sides of the path here and there, they reflected the bits of moonlight that broke through the natural canopy of branches as did the drops of rain that had collected in the trees and shrubs glistening like jewels hanging from the branches.

The scenery made him long to stop and marvel at its beauty as he recited the eloquent words Hannibal -who had been blessed with a poet's tongue- often used to describe it when they went on walks together, but he didn't want to dawdle and so he paused only briefly.

Lecter had been teaching him to play the harpsichord recently, he’d been terrible at first, so awkward and uncoordinated, but he was getting better and he was looking forward to practicing tonight.

He didn’t have to be home until twelve, an hour before his dad returned from work, this gave him a few hours to be with Hannibal, although no amount of time would be enough -if he spent every second of the rest of his life with him, it wouldn’t be enough.

He reached up over his head to use the door knocker -two serpents that intertwined around each other to form a circle- that hung on one of the large wooden doors.

It opened to reveal Hannibal, a silhouette figure that towered over him outlined in the warm glow of the light spilling from within the house. He was fiercely handsome, in his late thirties, and even in the diarkness his sharp features and golden brown hair stood out clearly. Will, who had seen him a thousand times and could draw every line of his his face by memory, was rendered almost breathless by merely laying eyes on him. He bit the inside of his lip and thought to himself that Hannibal would surely believe him to be a foolish child with a schoolboy's crush. 

Something that never failed to amaze him was how the outside of the mansion showed it had been long ago abandoned and when he looked through the windows of the house from the out, the interior looked every bit as dilapidated and dark and dreary. But when he was with Hannibal, the inside looked pristine, as it did when the house had been first built during the Victorian period. This was the inhuman's doing, he had powers, and although Will didn’t understand or know the full spectrum of them, they did not frighten him.

Hannibal once told him that he wasn’t a ghost, although he also told him he could not say what kind of creature he was for the simple fact that there were no others quite like him, he was entirely different from anything or anyone else and therefore he was simply Hannibal Lecter. And Will accepted this and him -despite the murder and cannibalism- because he was his friend and he promised that he always would be.

He had to look up to meet the man's gaze -as the top of his head only reached the middle of his chest- who greeted him fondly saying, “Will, come in, dear boy,” he often called him that, and every time he did he felt a restless warmth rise in him.

Lecter closed the door after him and waited for him to take his jacket off and hand it to him. He watched the slender man take graceful strides across the room to hang it up and he thought to himself that Hannibal was such an imposing man that he could never be the elegant gentleman he was. How he admired him, how he loved and worshipped him. His movements, his looks, his voice, his scent, his touch were all something that Will had grown to crave, _need_ , he had to be around him or he would wither away like a rose deprived of sunlight. And how he wanted more, he wanted to be closer to him, he wanted Hannibal to love him in the same way he loved him, wanted him to touch him in ways he didn’t dare say aloud. He wanted him to claim him, make him _his_ , and never ever let him go or leave his side again.

Lately, these things were all he could think of, and the more he did, the more afraid he became that he'd let something slip -he'd let him know in some small way.

After Will warmed himself by the fireplace for a moment, Hannibal led him to the harpsichord by gently placing a hand at the mid of his back.

As he sat he remembered the first time he met the man who now had his hands on his shoulders. He'd broken in determined to see the ghost that supposedly roamed the halls, from the moment their eyes locked he felt a connection to him, an instant affection and loyalty that he didn’t even try to explain or bother to question.

The man had been so gentle and kind with him. He always had time for him. He treated him like he mattered, like what he thought and felt mattered. He talked with him, not at him and not like a child, he was the only person he knew who did.

One thing Will liked the most was how honest he was with him, he always answered his questions -even when he asked why he killed people.

_“They die so I can live.”_

_“How? Why?”_

_“I eat them,” he replied honestly and as simply as if he’d stated the condition of the weather._

_“But you won’t hurt me?"_

_He smiled then, his eyes were soft, it was the first time Will had seen him like this, he ruffled the boy’s dark curly hair and said, “No. Never, my dear boy.”_

He glanced to the side of the harpsichord at the bookshelf that went from floor to ceiling and took up an entire wall on one side of the room, he thought about how Hannibal often read to him, or vise versa, and in the cozy study sitting in large leather chairs that faced each other in front of the fireplace either reading or being read to, he always felt at peace.

His mind wandered and he hit a sour note, he immediately placed his hands in his laps, interlocked his fingers, and anxiously rubbed his thumbs together. He’d wanted to impress him, get it right just this once, and he’d failed after the first few notes because he couldn’t control his thoughts.

Lecter said, “It’s alright, Will.” He rubbed his shoulders to comfort him, then held his own hands, palms up, out in front of him, he was only an inch or two away from pressing against his back. “Let me have your hands.”

He placed them in Hannibal’s whose hands were twice the size of his own, when he folded his fingers over them they were hidden, encompassed by the larger digits.

He gently began to move his fingers over Will’s, “You have such fine, nimble fingers, you are capable of so much more than you think. You could play the most beautiful music or create the most exquisite art if only you would stop doubting yourself.”

A boy that felt like a failure in everything he’d done could not let go of his self-doubt, not even when the person he loved the most asked it of him. And, after all, Hannibal was fond of him, he was only being kind in his praise.

The man moved his hands to the keys, placed his fingers in the proper places.

Will closed his eyes, let him guide him through the melody. He felt himself leaning back against Hannibal almost as if his body were moving on its own, he began to get hard. Then, horrified at the prospect that the man could see his arousal and for having leaned against him in the first place, he pulled away from him, he trembled and covered his face as he apologized in a voice he didn’t recognize.

“William,” his tone was soft, his voice heavy with the accent the youth so loved the sound of, he knew he was bending around him so that he could face him, “Take your hands down, I want you to look at me.”

He took them down, but he could not bring himself to open his eyes no matter how hard he tried. Hannibal’s hands were suddenly holding both sides of his face turning his head, he felt something warm and soft against his lips and he realized he was being kissed.

He opened his eyes and caught the man’s lustful gaze, his beguiling caramel eyes darkening as he moved his lips over his. He couldn’t believe it, he had to be dreaming. He wondered if he was. But as he felt his jaw go slack in response to Hannibal flicking his tongue over his lips letting him push it into his mouth to deepen the kiss he knew he wasn’t.

He turned to properly face him, so neither would have to be contorted in awkward or uncomfortable positions, he lifted his legs over the bench without breaking the kiss, his hands moved to his shirt, twisting the expensive fabric as he grasped it in near desperation. He quickly lost himself in the sloppy wet kiss, he wanted to press his body against the other’s but he could not arch his back high enough to do so.

Will gasped and Hannibal lightly chuckled as the boy struggled to catch his breath. “So eager,” he remarked.

The brunette turned his head away, his cheeks were burning hot, he could actually feel the blush spreading across his face.

Hannibal forced him to face him again, “Don’t turn from me." He moved his thumb over the youth's mouth, "Tell me what you want, Will.”

He moved one hand to the boy’s bony hip, he slipped the other under his shirt, his cool fingers moving over his flushed skin until they came to rest over the curve of his ribcage.

“I want you to touch me.”

“But, Will, I am touching you.” His lips were hovering above his as he spoke.

“I- I- want you to t-touch me more, p-please.”

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Hannibal moved his hand from his waist to his erection, began to palm him through the fabric of his jeans, “Is this what you want?” He teased, his voice dripped with want, “Is this how you want me to touch you.”

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t form any words at all, all he could do was produce a pitiful groan.

“Is this what you want?” he repeated, demanding a answer, his tone laced with the threat of stopping if he did not.

_Oh god, yes. Like this. Touch me like this, please touch me._

“Yes,” was all he could manage to get out.

Lecter continued until Will began to frantically thrust forward seeking the friction, craving more of it, then he undid his jeans and slipped his hand inside his boxers to stroke his cock.

“Oh god,” his hands moved up the front of Hannibal’s shirt to clutch his collar, “Please,” he cried.

“Please what, William?”

He felt a familiar tension building in his thighs and groin, one he recognized from nights when the only aids in his pursuit for pleasure were his hand and the thought of Hannibal, and he knew he was close.

“Please, I- I want to cum,” he couldn’t believe he’d said that aloud, even in this position with Hannibal’s hand on his dick, he became embarrassed, blushing at his words he let go of his collar with one hand and brought it down to cover his face.

The inhuman moved his hand away, “You do not have to be ashamed of what you want with me. Ever.” His eyes held the youth’s, “Come for me, darling."

He did and he cried the other's name so loudly he was grateful the mansion was quite some distance from any other structure.

Hannibal licked the milk-white fluid from his hand, some had spilled onto his sleeve. He quickly unbuttoned the boy's shirt revealing his pale skin, he knelt, brought his mouth to one rosy nipple and gently sucked it. Will grabbed hold of his silken hair losing himself to the feeling as he switched to the other nipple.

The brunette's head fell back and he found himself begging, "More, more, please."

After a moment, Hannibal finished removing the boy's shoes, pants, and boxers leaving him in only an unbuttoned shirt and socks.

Still shaky from the wave of ecstasy that had swept over his body the youth sat in a half swoon until he was guided to stand, then lay over the bench. The hard surface pressed against his stomach, his knees didn't quite touch the floor.

He didn't understand why he couldn't stop blushing, but he was thankful the other couldn't see his flushed face this time.

"Are you sure you want this? Would you have me debauch you in such ways?"

Without hesitation, "Yes."

Hannibal moved his hands down the youth's hips to his asscheeks, he parted them.

Will felt the oddest sensation _down there_. Hannibal was flicking his tongue over his hole, the he pushed it in. He moved it in and out in a slow rhythm.

"Hannibal, what-" despite how weird it felt initially, it had begun to feel good, extremely good, "-ah fuck," then he remembered how he disliked when he cussed, "S-sorry it just sl-lipped out."

When he stopped he told him there was no need to apologize as he moved his hand in front of Will's face, he instructed him to suck on two of his fingers.

He did as he was told only stopping when he pulled his hand away.

Hannibal then moved one digit around the rim of his tight hole before pushing it in. When the tension began to leave him he added the second.

Over the next few minutes, he switched between using his tongue and his fingers to fuck him. It was pleasurable torture for Will who couldn't stop the pathetic noises that fell from his lips, he whined and moaned, his breath came out in a mix of stutters and huffs. He held onto the bench, his fingers curling around the legs. He was already hard again and unable to rut against anything for friction. He tossed his head back, let it loll forward again.

He was on the precipice of having a second orgasm when Hannibal stopped and helped him to stand once more.

Lecter undid his own pants, sliding them and his boxers down, he hadn't removed his shoes so they could go no further than his ankles. His erection springing free, already leaking precum.

The man had always been meticulous, Will thought him to be the kind that would fold his clothes and set them aside neatly before lovemaking, slow and measured like everything he did, but this was a fevered, impatient act. And it delighted the boy to think the other desired him that much.

Hannibal lifted his small frame with ease as he sat down on the wooden bench. Will wrapped his arms around his neck and let himself be lowered onto his cock, he was stretched around his large length until he felt like he was being broken.

He made a pained noise, "It hurts."

The inhuman gently whispered, "Pain will turn into pleasure, dear boy, it will not hurt for long. Relax for me," as he began to move.

Will cried out and clung to him, wrapping his legs around him, burying his face in his neck. 

He hushed him and soothingly repeated, "Relax for me." Grasping his hips to guide him, he moved the boy up and down to match the slow rhythm of his thrusts, then as the pain faded and he caught on to what he wanted him to do, he began to move with him on his own. "Good boy," he breathed.

Hannibal was holding him, kissing him, grunting against his skin, he was _inside_ of him, he _wanted_ him and Will felt like he was going to explode with all the emotions churning within him.

"You want me," he said aloud, it was still hard to believe. 

"Of course I do."

“I was so afraid to tell you, afraid you’d hate me.”

“Darling boy, I could never hate you.”

This was the second time he'd called him that and both times had a devasting effect on him, he moaned and hid his face against the man’s chest, t “Please s-say it again -call me that again. P-please.”

“Of course, my darling,” he moved his fingers through his dark hair, “My sweet, darling boy, anything for you.”

“Oh, Hannibal,” he clutched him as tightly as possible, he could feel his eyes welling up, “I love you,” then tears were running down his face.

Lecter held him close, “I love you too.” Tugging at the brunette’s curls to expose his neck, he began to kiss and suck the flesh there, then he bit him sending a fresh ripple of pleasure through him, it was enough to send him over the edge, he moaned obscenely as he came untouched, his vision blurring as his dick spasmed and a shudder ran through his body.

After a few more sloppy thrusts, Hannibal orgasmed with an almost guttural groan, the rough sound might have frightened someone else, but not him.

He felt the sensation of a wet, warm liquid running down from where he’d been bitten. He could just barely see the color red, “I’m bleeding,” he murmured. He tried to turn to see why there was blood, out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a wound and it seemed to be bleeding _a lot_ , he felt his sleeve and the front of his chest becoming sticky with it. Was that an actual chunk of his flesh gone? He tried to focus, but Hannibal placed a hand to his cheek and guided him away from the injury to meet his gaze.

Will wasn’t in pain and he wasn’t afraid, not even when he saw his own blood running down the man’s chin.

He started to say something, Lecter shushed him, then kissed him, he could taste the blood, _his_ blood.

He felt overly calm, almost sedated. He was unable to focus on anything except for Hannibal, unable to care about what was happening to him as long as it was Hannibal doing it. 

“Darling, beautiful boy,” he stroked Will's cheek tenderly, “Your heart belongs to me and I shall eat it.” He opened his mouth revealing hundreds of pointed teeth where his human teeth had once been.

Looking into the maul, he knew this meant his death, but he did not struggle or even protest in the slightest. The love and loyalty he felt for the one who was now taking his life hadn’t changed and he might have even told him so if he hadn’t felt so weak.

His arms went slack against his will, Hannibal had to support him now. He was quite content to die in his strong grasp. He felt oddly at peace right up until the moment his beloved sunk his teeth into his chest.

##### ~~~⊰♥⊱~~~

Will had been innocent, young, and tender, not tough and bitter as so many others he had feasted on. The youth had been like veal, a rare find that had been difficult to cultivate, but instead of the using cruelty to ready him for the slaughter, he had used love.

Hannibal felt a twinge of sadness as he stared down into the dancing flames of the fireplace. He had loved the boy in his own way, the same way he loved all those he ate. It was his curse, but one he was willing to bear because no matter how much he loved any human, their life was a mere flash of light while his was an everlasting flame -as long as he fed the fire.

It did not matter if he killed the ones he loved after a year or so because he would eventually have to watch whoever he chose to be the 'special one' die. One time, he had tried living with someone he loved, someone who loved and accepted him in full, they had fifty-two years together, but he had to watch them slowly wither away and suffer the ailments of age while he did not, then he had to watch them die, slowly, painfully. He swore he would never endure such agony again. It was better not to grow attached to and dependent on someone as he would inevitably do over the years.

He always chooses those who hurt the most, those who want and need love, because they are easy to manipulate. He gives them a brief moment of love, perhaps an even briefer moment of horror, but never pain, and more often than not they always look at peace like Will had, still completely enthralled with him, still deeply under his spell.

The monster sat at the harpsichord and played as he waited like a wolf for the next lamb to fall into his trap.

The most terrible thing about him is that he makes his prey love him. If it were not for the desire and trust that allows him to bed them, without the devotion and emotional attachment it takes for him to own them, he could not eat them, for not only does he feed on their flesh, he feeds on their love.


End file.
